by Tobias Wade
“I’m not a weight,” Noah said, pulling away from her. “She’s still my daughter and—”
“—and her life is with him now—”
“Not by choice,” Noah interrupted back. “He left her. She’s just afraid, but she doesn’t have to be because I’m here and...” his voice trailed into silence.
“…and you’re going to take care of her?” The Matriarch prompted. “You’re going to build her a house that she can live in? You’re going to hold her when she’s sick and help her down the stairs when she’s old? There’s a reason not many of the dead continue dwelling amongst the living.”
“She can see me,” Noah said, the words sounding flat and useless even as he said them.
“She can see a boy she’s never known,” The Matriarch replied. “She can see lots of spirits every day. Some of them talk to her, others torment her, others just watch and say nothing. And none of them help her in the least. You must remember what that’s like.”
“I’m not going back,” Noah said. “Even if she doesn’t want to talk to me, I can still be here with her. I can get to know her all over again. And I can talk to Lewis when he gets older, and we’ll be friends and he’ll think we’re the same age.”
“Do you really think that would make his life easier than if he had living friends? Or is that just something you want for yourself?” The Matriarch asked.
Noah didn’t answer. He didn’t trust himself to open his mouth without screaming in frustration.
“You’re a Chainer, Noah,” The Matriarch said gently. “You are destined to live again, but you can’t do that here. You must be diligent in your classes and find your way back the right way. By then maybe Lewis will be all grown up, and he’ll have a son of his own. You can be part of his life forever and ever, but you must know deep down that it is not yet time.”
“I hate Barnes,” Noah said. “I can curse him, can’t I? Or get that witch to make him into a voodoo doll.”
“If that would make you happy,” The Matriarch said. “I can’t imagine that it would be what’s best for Lewis or Mandy though, do you?”
Noah said nothing again, finding more validation from nursing the seething fire within him than anything that could be said.
“Let’s go home,” The Matriarch said, already drawing a circle of dull yellow light on the ground around them with her cane. “Your new home, for as long as I am the headmistress and you are my student. The past cannot be made more beautiful by the present, but the future can be.”
Noah kept his silence as the circle flared into life. Mist was beginning to come from somewhere again, and Noah didn’t do anything to resist as The Matriarch laid her hand on his shoulder once more. The mist became a hurricane, and he was swept away back into the Whispering Room. The room of false hope and lies, that Noah swore he would never enter again.
Qari Olandesca Illustrations
Spring Semester
Noah was far from the only one to be disappointed with his Christmas break. It was with considerable satisfaction that Noah witnessed Brandon’s despondent return, as it turned out a large portion of his fortune was “wasted” on charitable donations. Grace Horlow wouldn’t stop blubbering about how few people attended her funeral, and Jason Parson lamented to everyone who would listen that his lazy son had immediately dropped out of medical school which he’d apparently only attended to please his father.
The only one who seemed to be in really good spirits was Walter who had been to visit his brothers. They had held a Christmas Eve candlelight vigil in his honor, and he was downright boastful about seeing his normally stoic family still in tears over his untimely demise. Jamie, on the other hand, was unusually quiet and self-reflective, although she was briefly animated by Noah’s description of how Professor Salice had vanished into a diamond.
On the positive side, the results of last semester’s examinations were completely discounted. The Matriarch announced that Professor Salice had chosen to resurrect over the holidays before he’d even graded his tests and that she’d decided to start over with a fresh start.
Likewise, Professor Wilst’s exam, for which Noah had been unable to even get his zombie to walk in a straight line without staggering drunkenly into a wall, had been invalidated upon the discovery of contraband in the classroom. An anonymous tipster had disclosed the unfair use of mermaid skulls, and as the Professor could not decipher who was thus aided, had decided to grant everyone a pass. No one’s body was to be used for the class’ entertainment this time, although Wilst declared earnestly that the same leniency would not be granted next semester.
The next section fortunately required considerably less anatomical percision as it dealt with poltergeists. These beings consisted of a spiritual body that was devoid of a soul and were formed by a deep emotional imprint upon the world.
“Anger is the most common,” Professor Wilst told them. The corpses that had once been distributed on the metal tables had been replaced with ceramic urns which had to be tied down to keep them from rattling off the table. “Poltergeists can be formed by any strong emotion though, like an echo which lingers after the soul has departed. In fact, I once met an especially ardent poltergeist which continued making love to the deceased’s living wife every night after his death. I was working as an exorcist for the the T.D.D at the time and was dispatched to assist her, but she turned me away insisting things were fine the way they were.”
Despite the students being primarily composed of the middle aged and elderly, that didn’t stop them from giggling in response like the children they appeared to be. Noah was especially surprised to see Teresa stifling back laughter, although she stopped and coughed as soon as she met Brandon’s glare. It seems that she had been in a considerably better mood than her son ever since his return from Christmas.
Professor Humstrum’s class had become more enjoyable as well, as it had moved past the theoretical aspect of affinities and moved to the practical implementation of test-driving animals.
“Before you decide which animal you’d like to return as, I highly recommend spending as much time as possible viewing the world through its eyes,” Professor Humstrum said, gesturing to the rather confused great horned owl perched on his wooden podium. It kept swiveling its head and staring at each student in turn as though trying to decide whether or not they were real.
“Each week the class will have the company of a different animal,” Professor Humstrum continued, occasionally adjusting his orange beard to ensure the finch that lived there remained hidden from the owl. “While it is extremely advanced magic to dominate the mind of an animal as a Dweller might, it is rather simple to enjoy a ride as a passenger. While inside the animal’s mind you will not be able to dictate any actions or even read the animal’s thoughts and feelings, but you will be able to experience its senses. Only one student will be able to do this at a time to avoid giving the poor creatures headaches, however, so the rest of the class will be continuing from the textbook while waiting their turn.”
Noah didn’t even have to turn to recognize the squeal of excitement coming from Jamie.
The most expansive change of curriculum doubtlessly came from demonology. The Matriarch made good on her threat to teach the class herself, and waiting beside her were a towering stack of new textbooks which she distributed to the class as they arrived.
“I must say I was most disappointed upon a closer review of Professor Salice’s previous lesson plans,” The Matriarch said, sighing mightily to reinforce the fact. “I would have thought that a book titled ‘Twelve Signs Your Imp Might Be Plotting To Kill You’ would have more appropriately warned of the dangers of demonology, but it turns out that the book was as deceptive as he was. I read it cover to cover over break, and there’s hardly anything in here about the righteous purges or forced demonic mutations at all!”
The new book was considerably thicker despite its smaller print. The title read: ‘The Forbidden Fruit: Demon Do’s And Don’ts’. As soon as Noah sat down and
flipped it open to the table of contents it was clear that the Don’ts category comprised the much larger portion.
“Let me begin by correcting his teaching as clearly as I can,” The Matriarch said. “Demons are not your friends. They are not your pets. They do not have souls. They may seem to have individual personalities, but they are no more their own entities than your arms and your legs are independent creatures. All demons are made from the nether, and to the nether alone they belong. We may borrow them for a time and bend them to our will, but they are all threads from the same fabric. They are not owed any more consideration than a shovel, or a teapot, or any other tools we use for our convenience.”
Noah had to bite his tongue to keep from protesting. Of course they had souls—otherwise where was he supposed to have come from? And the way the other demons had scattered when the Rasmacht appeared—they wouldn’t have done that if they weren’t afraid of their soul being eaten. The Matriarch was looking directly at Noah now, but he turned his eyes away to pretend to study the textbook.
“Yes? The boy with the shaved head?” The Matriarch asked sweetly.
“It’s Rachelle,” Rachelle Devon responded, unfazed. “Professor Salice said we were going to be taking turns as hosts to summon imps this semester. Is that still going to happen?”
“Goodness, no,” The Matriarch said. “We already have more demons than we know what to do with. The late professor seems to have been summoning far more than were required for service in the last stages of his term. Besides, Zandu was the only one here who knew how to write the contracts in demonic. By next semester we might get another so versed in the profane art, but contracts typically last for ten years so it’s not exactly essential. A much more useful understanding of demons can be derived from a historical perspective.”
Several more hands appeared in the air, but The Matriarch had already begun reading from the textbook, showing no signs of stopping. One by one the hands dropped, and she spent the rest of the class reading about the purge of 1940. Her account was considerably different than that of Professor Salice, who had said the purge was a politically motivated persecution.
This textbook described the purge as a necessary emergency response to a demonic uprising. The consensus of cited scholars was that this was proof that demons cannot be trusted to ever be free. The innocent victims were certainly in the thousands—tens of thousands by some accounts—and this number only increased as the T.D.D begin to fight back. The whole incident was later disguised as a genocide instigated by humans, and the offending demons were permanently banished so that no summoner could ever bring them out of the nether again.
The effect of The Matriarch’s lessons were not limited to the classroom. The imps working at The Mortuary quickly became a favorite scapegoat for every unfinished assignment or lost item. Of course, it didn’t help that the naturally mischievous imps really had stolen their fair share of personal effects over the course of the previous semester, and all sorts of things were turning up now that they were being actively pursued.
With each passing class, the harmless pranks the imps once played were seen with more vitriol and the students were beginning to respond in kind. Brandon, who was once scorned for his abusive behavior, had begun to gather a small following of his own. Dolly Miller, the girl who had killed herself, as well as Jennifer Alaska and a tall boy with a Jack’o lantern grin named Kyle Thrope were often seen together now, jeering and laughing as Brandon hurled stones and clods of dirt at the scampering imps.
Noah did his best to stand up for them, but as the weeks wound on he found himself spending more time alone and trying not to get involved. When he’d first attended the school, his mind was scattered with worries about his family and the distractions of this new world, but now more than ever he had a clear goal in mind: to return to life whatever way he could. He studied in the library late into the morning when the rest of the graveyard was heavy with the dreaming dead, resolving not to get distracted in the social dramas and intrigue that kept so many others away from their work.
While the necromancy class advanced with poltergeists, Noah asked for and received special permission to return to his zombie after class. He practiced until he could animate it fluidly enough to pass the physical portion of the field sobriety test administered to drunken drivers. He devoted the time once spent on being Salice’s apprentice to studying some of the professor’s old contracts, trying to decipher the meaning of the arcane symbols.
Even his transhumanist studies received extra attention. He had no intention to return as an animal, but there was no telling where a hidden insight might be that would aid in his rebirth. Professor Humstrum said that a comprehensive understanding in all fields would provide the very best chance at another life.
The heavy snow of winter had given into the reluctant thaw of spring by the time Noah made his next great breakthrough. He had been sitting in the empty demonology classroom copying one of Salice’s contracts when he realized one of the symbols was familiar to him. This wasn’t unusual in itself, as he had continued to slowly recall bits and pieces here and there from his previous life, but this particular symbol of the bottom quarter of a sun with a small door inside had appeared on every contract he’d encountered so far.
He flipped through the pile of papers on his desk and located the symbol on each, always on a line of its own. Closer inspection revealed that these were always drawn in a slightly different shade of red than the rest of the contract, indicating to Noah that they were either written at a different time or with a different type of blood entirely.
The Matriarch’s new textbook had no translations for demonic, so he brought out Salice’s old one and flipped through it for the hundredth time. Even here translations were limited, and no amount of scanning or restless pacing gave him the least satisfaction. The meaning was floating at the back of his brain somewhere, but the more he thought about it the more elusive it seemed. He was sure that it meant something crucial, but additional effort only translated into additional frustration at its secret.
Head in both hands, Noah would still his mind in quiet meditation hoping the answer would shout itself from up high, or down low, or somewhere deep within, but such a shout never came. On one such occasion his concentration was disrupted by a shrill screech. The harpies were going off again, but unlike their usual alarm there were two distinct words clearly audible amidst the noise.
“Noah Tellaver. Noah Tellaver!” they screeched.
Disconcerted, Noah abandoned his work and made his way to the demonology door. He had only just touched the handle when the screech sounded again.
“Matriarch’s office. Bring the contracts.” Screech. “The contracts!”
Noah scanned the room, searching for a sign that he was being watched. The light of the overhead will-o-wisp glittered against something high on the upper reaches of a bookshelf against the wall. Standing on a chair to inspect more closely, it looked like a white diamond, very much like the one The Matriarch had plucked from her eye. The light dimmed for a second as he stared at it—no not dimmed. It blinked.
“Noah Tellaver! Noah Tellaver!” the screech began again. Noah hastened to scoop the pile of papers under his arm and ascend the helical staircase toward The Matriarch’s office on the first floor.
“Wonderful, just the boy I’d like to see,” The Matriarch said from her reading chair. “Be a dear and shut the door behind you.” The door had already been standing open as Noah had approached it leaving no doubt that he was expected. He did as he was asked and moved to stand before the old woman.
“Yeah, I heard,” Noah said. “Have you been watching me?”
The Matriarch swatted the question out of the air with her hand as though driving away a fly. “How nice, you brought the contracts with you. I’m so glad to see you taking such a keen focus on your studies. Oh, but I’m being rude. Sit, won’t you?”
The room contained only a single chair, that which The Matriarch herself occupied. She gestured t
oward the circular rug at her feet though, and Noah hesitated only briefly before sitting cross legged before her.
There was a slight pause while The Matriarch regarded him critically. Noah opened his mouth to reply, but she immediately cut him off.
“I imagine you’re learning a lot. About the contracts, that is. You’ve been reading them, haven’t you?”
“I’ve been trying,” Noah admitted, “but I still don’t know what most of the symbols mean.”
The Matriarch stood abruptly and puttered over to one of the bookshelves looming over her chair. She ran her fingers across the spines, and in the silence the murmuring from the books was more pronounced than ever. Noah thought he could even make out a few of the words like “secret”, “blasphemy”, and “death”, as well as a good deal of barely audible hissing and other demonic utterings. She selected one, a thick leather volume with golden demonic symbols along the spine.
“I have something that may assist you. A curious Chainer like yourself may unveil many hidden truths that are beyond the most arduous study of a common soul.”
She thinks I’m learning demonic because I’m a Chainer, Noah thought. Does she still not know I have an affinity? Noah kept his face as uninterested and expressionless as he could to not betray his thoughts. He stretched out his hands to receive the book which The Matriarch was carrying in his direction. At the last second before his fingers closed around the spine, she withdrew it from him and flipped it open.
“Of course, I wouldn’t normally encourage an interest in the profane arts—especially not in a first-year student—but I do see a certain benefit from our partnership of minds. You would like to help me, wouldn’t you Noah?”
“Help you with what?” Noah asked, weighing his words carefully.
“Wrong answer,” she replied curtly, snapping the book shut. “You are a student at my school, of course you will do as you’re told. More than a student in fact—now that Professor Salice is no longer here, you will be needing a new apprenticeship to earn your keep, and I can think of no higher honor for a Chainer than to serve the headmistress herself.”
